


Apartment 504

by jimins_crooked_tooth



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eating Disorders, Eventual Smut, Fluff, GOT7 - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Romance, kpop, markson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 14:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11292225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimins_crooked_tooth/pseuds/jimins_crooked_tooth
Summary: Mark eyed the glass in Jackson’s hand and hesitated.  He didn’t know this man.  The only time he’d ever spoken to him was once when Jackson was intoxicated past the point of coherence and once after both had returned home at the same time. This man was so loud, so impulsive, so unpredictable, and so unlike anyone Mark would normally associate with.But still, after a timid look into Jackson’s hopeful brown eyes, Mark met Jackson’s drink halfway with his, the clink of glass and a shared smile between the two kicking off the start of the night.





	1. "I said I think you're cute."

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is jimins-crooked-tooth if any of you want to follow me and be friend <3 my blog and i are both trash but i figured i'd just put this out there lmao

                                                                          

Growing up, Mark was a shy kid. Throughout all his years in school he was the student who sat in the back of the classroom listening, observing, absorbing. That's not to say he wasn't an excellent student, because he was—A's and B's year after year; he just wasn't one to raise his hand to answer questions in class or get involved in student council or drama club like the rest of his fellow classmates. He liked alone time—in fact, he _thrived_ off alone time. His parents were always getting on him about "putting himself out there" and "trying new things" and "meeting new people" but that wasn't the type of person Mark was. He was much more content sticking to being an introvert.

However, Mark's introverted tendencies sometimes posed problems for him. Social situations were often a struggle for him to persevere. For instance: parties? _Definitely_ not Mark's thing. He would prefer to be cooped up in his bedroom playing video games, watching movies, listening to music, or catching up on some much-needed sleep instead. Mark and people were like peanut butter and pickles—they didn't quite go together.

But while Mark had never been much of a people-person, a couple of years ago in high school he had managed to befriend someone (or rather be befriended _by_ someone). It was during Mark's second year of high school when he met Jinyoung in World History class. History wasn't one of his strongest subjects, so he tended to avoid those classes at all costs, but he needed a certain amount of history credits in order to graduate and he wanted to get them done early in his high school career rather than later.

It was the end of the school day and history was his second to last class that semester. For whatever reason, this particular time period that the class was learning about was confusing the absolute _hell_ out of Mark and it was really beginning to take a toll on his grades and his mental state. He spent hours every night reading through his textbook and trying to find information for his homework online, but it was no use—he just wasn't retaining any of what he was learning. A unit test was quickly approaching and his lack of understanding was going to be of no use to him when it came time to take the exam. He was frustrated to say the least.

At the end of class, he stared blankly down at the study-guide in front of him, fingers laced through his dark hair and pulling harshly at their roots. "Tug any harder and your hair might fall out," a quiet voice said from his right. It took Mark a moment to realize the comment was directed at him and he glimpsed to the side to meet his classmate's dark brown eyes squinted slightly in amusement. He huffed and turned back to his paper that mocked him more and more the longer he stared. He ignored the shrill screech of chair legs sliding against the tile floor as the boy to his right pulled his seat closer to Mark's desk. "Anything I can help with?" he asked.

"Sure. Take my test for me this Friday?" The boy beside him chuckled a bit under his breath, clearly unaware of how serious Mark was and how desperate he actually was to learn and understand this material.

"Hm, I'm not sure that's something I can help with."

"Then, I'm not interested." Mark's words came out a bit harsher than intended and he immediately felt a pang of guilt in his gut. "Sorry," he sighed, relaxing his shoulders and leaning back sluggishly in his chair. "Just a little frustrated and a lot confused."

"It's okay," the boy said. "I get it. Tensions are high at this point in the year and this is a hard unit." Mark nodded in agreement and clicked the pen in his hand absentmindedly. The bell suddenly rang overhead, startling him. Usually Mark spent the majority of the class period staring at the clock on the wall waiting for the period to end, but this encounter with his classmate had distracted him from that task and allowed the bell to catch him off guard.

Mark stood up and began packing up his belongings to head to his last class of the day, but was stopped when a hand was placed on his textbook. "Before you go," his classmate started, "I'm pretty good at history and I have a good grasp on this unit. Why don't we meet up and study before the test?"

Mark's eyes widened a bit at his words. This had never happened before. Mark was an introvert. That meant he didn't ever talk to people, and as a result, people didn't ever talk to him. He'd said a total of like five words to this kid, so what made him think he'd be willing to meet up face-to-face to _study_?

Mark swallowed and stared blankly at the boy before him. "Um..."

"Here," the other said, placing his phone in Mark's hand. "Put your number in and I'll let you know when I'm free this week to meet up." Reluctantly, Mark typed his number into his classmate's phone and handed it back to him when he finished.

"Mark, huh?" the boy said, eyes skimming over the contents of his phone screen. "I'm Jinyoung. I'd shake your hand but my arms are a bit full," he said, eyes flicking down to the books clutched against his chest. "Anyway, talk to you later. Try not to detach the hair from your head." And just like that, Mark left World History class for the ump-tieth time that semester, only this time, with a classmate's phone number and the potential of a first real friend.

 

. . .

 

"MARK! COME HELP ME WITH THIS GODDAMN TABLE!" Jinyoung yelled from the front room. Mark tossed his notebook onto his bed and rushed down the short hallway to the front door where Jinyoung stood holding a large, solid wood table in his arms, struggling to keep his grip. Mark hurried over to him and lifted some of the table's weight off of Jinyoung's arms, helping to set it down in the middle of the living room floor in front of their black leather couch.

"Christ," Jinyoung panted, massaging his shoulder with one hand and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the other. "My arms feel like they're about to fall off."

"Maybe this is your sign to start working out," Mark teasingly suggested, dodging the incoming swat from Jinyoung's hand aimed for his chest and chuckling proudly. "But seriously. Why couldn't you just wait for me to come down before bringing this up by yourself?" he asked, gesturing to the coffee table at his feet.

"Maybe because you were dilly-dallying around up here while I was actually trying to get shit done," Jinyoung huffed, rolling up his sleeves. He released a long breath and glimpsed around the room at the mess that lay before them. "I think we're done moving now. Everything's all here, so we may as well start unpacking."

"Way ahead of you," Mark said, side-stepping Jinyoung and stalking back down the hallway to his new room. His friend walked up behind him, peeking over his shoulder to glimpse into the bedroom. The floor was flooded with things—clothing, shoes, boxes, school supplies, and just about anything else imaginable.

"So, while I was downstairs moving all the heavy furniture, you decided to unpack all your things?" Mark shrugged and picked up the notebook on his bed. "Figures," Jinyoung muttered, exiting the room, and leaving Mark to his own devices. He skimmed over the contents of his notebook, occasionally crossing things out as he found them in the pile of things strewn messily all over his bedroom floor.

Over the next couple hours, Mark spent his time arranging his room, moving furniture, hanging pictures on walls, organizing his closet, and putting away all his belongings in dressers and on shelves. Just as he was beginning to finish up, a knock sounded on his door, followed by the familiar face of his roommate.

"Looks good," Jinyoung complimented, eyes scanning the room and nodding approvingly. "I just finished my room too. Why don't we work on the living room next?"

Mark stood, brushing his sweaty palms off on his jean-clad knees and followed Jinyoung out of the room. The transition from one room to the next was quite stressful to say the least. Mark had just finished getting his bedroom all put together, satisfied with the outcome, only to walk into the living room to see boxes stacked tall and furniture scattered about. He breathed a sigh and closed his eyes momentarily, already beginning to dread the new task at hand.

A loud thump sounded outside their front door followed by a voice shouting, " _GYEOMIE, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? TURN THE GODDAMN SOFA._ " Mark opened his eyes and turned to face his roommate who was already mirroring Mark's confused expression.

" _I'M DOING THE BEST I CAN. WOULD YOU SHUT UP FOR FIVE SECONDS AND LET ME FOCUS?"_

A moment passed with more yelling and bickering. It seemed to peak Jinyoung's interest because he approached the front door and opened it slightly to peer out into the hallway. "Do you guys need some help?" he asked. There was a brief exchange of words before Jinyoung waved Mark over to the door, asking him to come out and help. Mark rounded the corner to see two boys, both equally frustrated, standing in the hallway, a couch turned upside down between them. The boy closest to Mark had stark black hair, his sweaty bangs brushing across his forehead, but the hair color brought out the deep brown in his irises. Mark's eyes were drawn to the boy's prominent cheek bones and porcelain skin, a freckle dotted about an inch below his right eye. His height was something Mark envied, something Mark wished he had. Looking down the hallway to the other side of the couch, stood a younger-looking boy with sandy-brown hair and much tanner skin than his counterpart. His cheeks were fuller than the other's and his lips were plump and pursed.

" _This_ asshole," the boy furthest away started, gesturing towards the other, "doesn't know how to follow simple instructions."

The taller one rolled his eyes and groaned. "Bam, this hallway is too damn narrow to move the couch like this! It's not my fault it's not working!"

"We can help," Jinyoung interjected, already reaching out to grab one end of the sofa.

Mark and Jinyoung helped the two maneuver the couch down the rest of the hallway and through the door of the apartment across the hall from them. After setting it down in the middle of the living room floor, Jinyoung offered his and Mark's help in assisting the pair to move the rest of their furniture inside. Mark sent Jinyoung a look that said, " _Seriously?_ " and his roommate shot him one back that he could only imagine meant, " _Don't be a douche._ "

So, a half hour later of moving more heavy furniture than Mark would have liked to have moved, the two residents across the hall thanked their neighbors for their time and energy spent helping them move in. Mark had come to find that the tall boy with dark hair's name was Yugyeom and his roommate's name—well, rather nickname—was Bambam (Mark made a mental note to find out where the nickname came from or what it meant). The two boys were first-year college students, Yugyeom majoring in dance and choreography and Bambam majoring in fashion design. Mark was a bit surprised that the two were moving into an apartment so early in their college careers rather than a dorm, but according to Yugyeom, the two had been saving up money from their jobs over the past couple years to afford off-campus living.

"I'm not really into the whole shared bathrooms and showers thing," Bambam explained. "I'd rather just pay more money to have my own space." Mark understood as he, too, hated living in a dorm his first year of college. There was so little privacy and space and everything was shared and there were always too many people around and, _ugh_ , Mark _hated_ it. But now he didn't have to worry about any of that. He and Jinyoung had finally moved into their own place where they had ample room to live and more privacy in one room than in an entire dorm put together.

"They seem nice," Jinyoung said, closing the front door behind Mark. Mark shrugged and headed over to the counter bar to unpack one of the multiple unopened boxes. "You don't get an opinion, Mark. You don't like _anyone_."

Mark tsked. "It's not that I don't like anyone, it's just that I prefer to be alone."

"Or with me," Jinyoung added proudly.

"Yeah, or with you," Mark smiled. He spun around on his heels slowly and took in the sight of the disheveled living room, sighing once again before sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room. He looked up at his roommate standing in the doorway and patted the spot beside him on the floor. "This place isn't going to unpack itself."

 

. . .

 

Mark's eyes drooped tiredly as he yawned and pulled the blanket on his lap up over his shoulders. The light from the television screen flickered in the dark room, illuminating the space enough to maneuver through the living room with little hassle but didn't provide much more sufficient lighting than that. Mark glimpsed at a sleeping Jinyoung sprawled out on the couch perpendicular to him and gently nudged him with his foot.

"Jinyoungie. Wake up. You're going to wake up tomorrow with a sore back if you sleep here tonight." Jinyoung grunted in annoyance and rubbed his eyes with his palms. It took him a couple minutes to fully get up and walk to his room to prepare for bed, Mark sleepily following close behind. Mark changed into an old pair of sweatpants and stumbled into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

As he made his way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, he heard a pair of keys jingle outside their door, followed by a long string of curse words. Mark turned off the kitchen faucet to listen more carefully, taking the toothbrush out of his mouth and setting it on the counter to approach the front door. The jingling of keys ceased, and a loud knocking on the door ensued. _Who the hell comes to someone's door at one o'clock in the morning._

" _Jaebummieee_ ," a raspy voice slurred on the other side of the door. " _Open uuup_." After a series of more knocks, a very puzzled Mark opened the door, peaking out only to meet a pair of large, dark brown eyes that he could only describe as puppy-dog eyes. "You're not Jaebummie," the stranger said.

"Uh, no. I'm not," Mark said, blatantly, avoiding the eyes of the man standing before him. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Um, I _live_ here," the man stated matter-of-fact, stumbling a bit over his own two feet and bracing himself on the door frame.

Mark opened the door a little wider, stepping into the light of the hallway and looking in each direction for some sort of explanation for this man's presence. "Uh, no, I think you're a bit confused," Mark stated. "My roommate and I just moved in today. I'm certain this is our apartment."

"Hm." The man thought for a moment, swaying back and forth slightly and attempting to regain his balance. "I'm sorry," he apologized, eyebrows still furrowed in his confused daze. "I'll find Jaebummie and he'll find our apartment," he said confidently. He nodded to Mark in a polite farewell before taking a few steps in the direction (Mark assumed) he came from initially. Mark watched as the man's legs betrayed his brain's orders, his knees giving out every couple steps and making it incredibly difficult for him to complete his journey down the long corridor. He stopped about two doors down from Mark's apartment before bracing himself with one hand on the wall, doubling over, and retching all over the floor.

"Jesus Christ," Mark muttered under his breath, leaning his shoulder into the door frame and massaging his temples. _This guy is a mess._ But as much as he disliked confrontation, this man was intoxicated past the point of coherent thinking. He posed a serious threat to himself if he were to stumble into any sort of unfortunate or dangerous situation.

Mark swallowed his pride and walked down the hallway to where the stranger stood, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder as the other wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Come inside," Mark said, a dash of annoyance clear in his voice. "I'll help you find your apartment."

Mark guided the drunk man inside, shutting the door behind them with his foot as he lead the two of them into the bathroom. Jinyoung exited his room and ran into the pair mid-way to their destination, eyes wide in surprise.

"Who is this? What are you doing?"

"I'll explain later," Mark huffed as the stranger's weight seemed to increase with each step they took. By the time Mark got him to the bathroom, he was practically carrying him. He set him down in front of the toilet and shoved his head over the bowl for the man to continue his hurling, only this time, _not_ in the middle of the hallway.

Jinyoung momentarily watched the events unraveling before him, half in disgust, half in just utter confusion. "Uhhh, okay. Let me know if you need anything, I guess?" Mark nodded and Jinyoung headed back to his bedroom, leaving Mark and this... person... alone. As the man heaved into the toilet, the undeniable stench of sour liquor lingered in the air. Mark willed himself not to gag. He took a moment to get away from the wretched smell, taking a detour to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Upon reentering the bathroom, he noticed the stranger was no longer regurgitating alcohol and instead had his face pressed tiredly to the porcelain toilet seat.

"Here." Mark handed him the water and a damp washcloth before taking a seat on the ledge of the bathtub. He watched the man down small sips of water, wiping his mouth with the cloth after each little sip.

"Thank you," he breathed, seemingly a lot more sober now than he was before. _Figures_ , Mark thought. _He pretty much just emptied his entire stomach._

Mark nodded and shifted uncomfortably. "So, um, do you, like, have somebody I could call to come and get you?" The stranger handed Mark his phone and said, "Jaebummie," before laying his head back down on the toilet seat and closing his eyes, one arm holding his stomach in pain. Mark scrolled through the contacts on his phone until he found the name he was looking for. Upon calling, a concerned voice answered.

"Jackson, where the _fuck_ are you?" said the person on the opposite end. "Youngjae and I have been looking all over the goddamn planet for you."

Mark cleared his throat awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what exactly to say. "Um, hi, so, uh, I'm _not_ Jackson, but I guess this person with me is?" He glimpsed down at the sobering man on his bathroom floor, cheek pressed heavily against the toilet bowl.

"Wait, what? Who is this?"

"Um, well, my name's Mark but, uh, this guy came to my door, saying it was his apartment, but it's not, and, well, um," Mark met the stranger's brown eyes again, "now he's on my bathroom floor."

The man on the other end of the line groaned. " _Fuck, Jackson_ ," he cursed through a sigh. "I'm so sorry about all of this." Jaebum apologized. "Will you text me your address so I can come get him?"

Mark sat awkwardly on the side of the tub for a few minutes after texting this Jaebum person his and Jinyoung's new address, intentionally avoiding the gaze of the other person in the room. He cleared his throat and twiddled his fingers absentmindedly, hoping this stranger's friend would get here quickly so he could finally go to bed.  He was tired and sore from moving furniture all day and his body was pleading for him to finally lay down and get some rest.

"Your name is Mark?" the stranger asked, sitting up slightly to adjust his posture before resting his cheek back on the seat, his red, hooded eyes connecting with Mark's. Mark nodded slightly and waited for the man to say something else so he wouldn't have to. "Mark." He tasted the name on his tongue. "It's not a very Korean name," he decided.

"I mean, neither is Jackson," Mark quipped, surprising himself with his witty reply.

"Touché," Jackson snickered, lips turning up into a gentle smile. Mark began to feel his anxiety kick in under the stranger's unwavering gaze. He went to wipe his increasingly sweaty palms on his t-shirt before he realized he wasn't wearing one. Embarrassment washed over him at the realization and he crossed his arms over his stomach, hoping the man in front of him couldn't sense his discomfort.

"You're cute," Jackson said, a smile forming on his lips. Mark's heart skipped in his chest at the shameless confession.

"Oh, um, what?" he stumbled, thinking he'd heard the other incorrectly.

"I said I think you're cute," Jackson chuckled, his words coming out in short slurs.

"Oh, o-okay. Thanks, I guess...?" he trailed off, looking down at his lap to avoid further eye-contact, even more intimidated now by the other's forwardness. Mark racked his brain for a logical explanation as to why he decided to bring this man into his apartment when he easily could have just closed the door and gone about his own business, but he came up empty-handed. A good ten minutes later, a knock sounded on the front door and Mark side-stepped an out-cold Jackson to answer it. He was greeted by a tired face, the look of a man who'd just had _enough_.

"Are you Mark?" he asked and Mark nodded. "I'm Jaebum. You talked to me on the phone. I'm honestly _so_ sorry about this. Where is he? I'll get him out of your hair."

"Oh, uh, this way," Mark said, waving Jaebum inside and leading him to where Jackson lay unconscious on the bathroom floor.

"Fucking hell, Jackson," Jaebum sighed, scratching the back of his neck, and squatting in front of his comatose friend. "He just got back from a summer-long trip to China to see his family, so my other roommate and some friends thought it would be a good idea to throw him a 'welcome back party.'" He looked back up at Mark regretfully. "It seems we were mistaken." Mark snickered despite the wave of exhaustion that had finally begun to wash over him. "Thanks for taking care of him until I got here. We seriously owe you one."

Mark waved him off. "It's whatever. I just didn't want him walking out into traffic or something while he looked for you or his apartment."

Jaebum laughed a little under his breath. "Well, he wasn't too far off from finding it," Jaebum said. Mark sent him a confused look and he added, "We live right next door."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg okay so welcome to my first got7 and markson fic. let me know what you all think! 
> 
> \- mia xoxo


	2. "...I still think you're cute."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! so, i actually changed the name of this story to Apartment 504 because Room 504 reminded me too much of a hotel room so sorry for any confusion! pls don't beat me up i'm a pacifist and will definitely not win ok ok enjoy

                                                                          

“Mark, get the fuck up.  It’s past noon.” Mark grunted tiredly, pulling the comforter over his head and curling his knees up to his chest.  He felt a dip form on his bed as Jinyoung sat down, tugging gently at Mark’s blanket in an attempt to pry it off.  “You said we would go shopping today. I need to get some books and a couple other things before the school year starts.  You too.” Mark grunted again, but narrowly complied, running a hand through his hair and stretching out his sore limbs.

“Give me twenty minutes,” he grumbled, proceeding to kick Jinyoung off his bed (literally, not figuratively). Jinyoung scowled and rubbed his side (the site of impact) but ultimately left Mark to his own devices to get ready for the day.

Mark’s morning routine was a little thrown off due to the setup of the new apartment—he had to remember where he placed everything the day before when he was unpacking his boxes.  He walked out of his bedroom, blue toothbrush wedged between his thick lips as his eyes skimmed over the nearly empty pantry for something to eat on their way out.  His shoulders slumped when he found nothing convenient to take on the go and huffed through his nose, turning to walk back into his bedroom.  He paused when he heard a gentle knock at the front door.  Mark turned to face Jinyoung who was sitting on the sofa in front of the television, reading a book he’d bought only a couple days ago. Jinyoung shrugged, his expression saying, _Don’t ask me, I’m not expecting anyone_.  Mark gestured to the door and then to his shirtless body, his eyes saying, _I can’t get it right now. You get it._   Jinyoung settled back into the couch with his book, blatantly ignoring Mark’s pleas to open the door so he wouldn’t have to.

Mark groaned in annoyance as he hurried to the sink to spit out his toothpaste before opening the door.  He wasn’t sure who or what he was expecting, considering neither him nor his roommate were expecting any visitors, but what he definitely wasn’t expecting was to see no one at all.  He glimpsed down either side of the hallway and still saw no one. Before he closed the door, he noticed something at his feet. A six pack of beer sat alone in front of the doorway, a small letter taped to the top of one of the bottles.  Mark knelt down to eye the package, picking up the piece of paper in the process and proceeding to open it.

_Mark,_

_I wanted to apologize for last night. I’m not sure what all I said or did, but hopefully it wasn’t as bad as I’m imagining it to be. Accept this gift as a token of my appreciation for your help and also as an apology._

_Your neighbor,_

_Jackson x_

Mark blinked a couple times, rereading the letter in his hand at least twice before glancing first at the beer and then to his neighbors’ closed door.  He considered knocking on their door and explaining to Jackson that it really was no problem and that this really was not necessary, but then Mark remembered that he _hated_ confrontation, so he opted for a quick shrug, grabbing the bottles, and shutting the door with his foot.

“Who was it?” Jinyoung asked curiously, eyeing the six-pack of alcohol in Mark’s hand.

“One of the neighbors,” Mark replied, opening the fridge, and squeezing the case on the top shelf.  “I guess he felt bad about last night, so he left some beer at our door.”

Jinyoung sat up on the couch, uncrossing his legs, and placing his book face down on the table.  “Oh yeah. What was that all about?  One second you were getting ready for bed and the next you were sitting next to some stranger puking his guts out in our bathroom.”

Mark sighed and rubbed his temples.  “He knocked on our door last night thinking it was his and when I told him it wasn’t he went off by himself, and then puked in the hallway outside, and basically he was just a downright mess. I thought he would probably wind up hurt or dead if he left.”

“Wow, Mark.  Look at you being an outstanding citizen,” Jinyoung teased, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Mark rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he grumbled and headed back to his room before Jinyoung could say any more.

 

**. . .**

 

“We need food,” Mark announced, adjusting the bags in his right hand, so he could scroll through his phone with the other.  “I made a list in the car of what all we need.”

“Okay, we can stop by the store on our way home,” Jinyoung promised, turning to Mark.  “Did you eat anything today?” Mark shook his head and read the time at the top of his phone screen before sliding the phone back into his pocket. 15:24. Jinyoung paused mid-step, catching Mark’s arm with his free hand and spinning him so the two were face to face. “Mark! It’s late afternoon and you haven’t eaten anything?” Mark raised his hands defensively, eyes wide. Jinyoung sighed, letting go of his arm and taking a step forward.  “Come on, let’s get something to eat,” he replied gruffly, his motherly nature kicking in at his friend’s confession.

Mark’s limbs still ached from moving such heavy boxes and furniture the day before, but walking around and shopping with Jinyoung helped distract him from the soreness and prevented his body from becoming too stiff. He and Jinyoung had spent the day picking up textbooks and excess school supplies for their classes that started in less than a month.  They knew if they didn’t buy what they needed now stores would run out of supplies by time they looked for it later. Luckily, each boy had managed to find most of the things they had gone out for, each doting their fair share of bags on their arms as they walked around the outdoor shopping plaza. The pair approached a Smoothie King that had just opened a couple weeks ago and Mark stopped.

“I’m actually not too hungry right now. I was earlier, but the feeling has passed. Why don’t we just grab smoothies for a snack instead?  I can eat when we get home from the grocery store.” Jinyoung hesitated initially, his eyes meeting Mark’s, but Mark assured him that he was fine, and that he _would_ eat when they got home, and that Jinyoung didn’t have to worry about him because he was taking good care of himself now, and also, _Jinyoungie, you looooove smoothies, I know you do.  I’ll even treat you._

And so, with a long sigh and a dismissive wave of his hand, Jinyoung nodded. “Fine,” he breathed, and Mark smiled, tugging on Jinyoung’s arm and pulling the two of them into the smoothie chain.  The line was long and Mark feared that Jinyoung would be bothered by the long wait, but he actually didn’t seem to mind. The two roommates chatted in line about their upcoming school year—their classes, professors, which buildings their classes would be in, etcetera. Jinyoung eagerly told Mark about all of the books he and his classmates would be reading this year, according to the online class syllabus.

Jinyoung was a literature major who was also minoring in creative writing.  Although Jinyoung excelled in both areas, Mark had never been much of a recreational reader or writer, and therefore posed a _little_ judgmental towards his roommate and his chosen major.

Mark was a philosophy major, minoring in psychology.  Both subjects suited him well.  All his life, Mark had been a thinker, an absorber of the world around him.  He frequently asked himself questions about life, nature, and the world’s existence. It was never guaranteed that he would ever find answers to his questions, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try his damn hardest.

A part of Mark also loved the human brain; he enjoyed learning about its many different functions, how things worked inside the head, how those things made people act in different ways, and why those people did certain things. Mark just liked… understanding things. He liked finding answers to questions and learning why things were the way they were.

Mark snapped out of the trance he didn’t realize he was in when the cashier called out, “Next!” Jinyoung stepped aside and gestured for Mark to go first. Mark scooted forward, placing his fingertips on the ceramic counter top as he looked up momentarily to meet the eyes of the man behind the counter—dark brown eyes… _familiar_ dark brown eyes. Mark swallowed hard as he took in the sight of the man before him—blond hair, rosy pink lips, and (Mark wouldn't ever admit it but) breathtaking brown eyes; it was Jackson.

“What can I get for you?” he asked, eyes wide in attention.

 _Oh god. It’s him. It's_ him _. This is so awkward. I'm so uncomfortable. Does he recognize me from last night?  He has to recognize me. He called me cute. If he recognizes me, why isn’t he saying anything?_   Mark’s thoughts ran circles around his head and he felt his mouth dry up as he stood there, eyes trained on the blond’s face. Jinyoung kicked the back of his thigh, startling him, and Mark’s head swiveled, eyes narrowing at his friend.

“You’re the one who wanted smoothies, so order,” Jinyoung nudged.

Mark turned back around, hand on the back of his neck out of nervousness, and avoiding Jackson’s gaze by looking at the menu on the wall behind him. Mark cleared his throat, straining to string together a coherent sentence in his head. “Okay, um… c-could I get a… uh... small pineapple surf?”

Jackson nodded and plugged his order into the computer, eyes falling to Jinyoung next. Jinyoung recited his order, and the two moved off to the side to wait for their smoothies.

“Are you okay?” Jinyoung asked quietly, leaning into Mark’s side. “You're acting really weird.”

“That’s Jackson,” Mark said, eyes unmoving from the blond currently engaged in blending the ingredients to their smoothies. He looked so different in this setting—his hair and clothes were much more put together as opposed to his drunk, disheveled appearance at the apartment.  Despite his drunken state the previous night, Jackson looked surprisingly well-rested today, like his hangover was either non-existent or he was _damn_ good at hiding it.  Anybody else recovering from an intoxicated state equivalent to Jackson's last night would more than likely be bed-ridden the majority of today, over-the-counter pain medication, soup and _lots_ of water remedying the inevitable hangover.

Jinyoung’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell is Jackson?”

“Jackson, our neighbor,” Mark explained.  He watched as Jackson poured one smoothie into a styrofoam cup and started up the blender again to mix the ingredients of the second one.  “He was the drunk guy in our apartment last night.”

Jinyoung nodded in understanding. “Wow. I hardly recognized him without his face shoved in our toilet.” Mark rolled his eyes and Jinyoung continued. “It doesn’t look like he recognizes you so what's the big deal?”

Mark’s gaze remained trained on Jackson, watching his strong hands top off the two cups with lids.  His high-pitched laughter resonated around the store as he and a coworker joked behind the counter, Jackson's head thrown back in laughter and his straight, white teeth on full display. Mark thought back to the brief conversation between the two of them during the late hours the night before.

 _“You’re cute,”_ Jackson said. Mark gulped, remembering Jackson's brazen confession and how nonchalantly he'd said it, like he was stating a fact, not an opinion.

 _“Oh, um, what?”_ Mark had said, stumbling a little over his words.

 _“I said I think you’re cute.”_ Jackson repeated.

The memory caused Mark's stomach to turn. Being in Jackson's presence when he seemingly did not recognize Mark made him nervous for some reason, like Mark was fostering some sort of top-secret information and he feared Jackson would somehow be able to figure it out. This is _exactly_ why he never associated with people. In the long-run, it just becomes too stressful and complicated and confusing and, sure, Mark was probably overreacting like he usually does, but that's what happens when you're a socially-awkward, anxiety-ridden introvert. You overthink and you overreact when in reality nothing is actually as bad as it seems.

“One pineapple surf and one angel food cake,” Jackson called out, holding a smoothie in each hand. Mark snapped out of his little daze and reluctantly stepped up to the register, eyes cast down as he handed over his card, Jackson quickly swiping it through the computer and handing it back to him with a soft smile.

“Have a great day,” he said, and Mark nodded.  He spun around on his heels and grabbed his roommate by the arm, pulling the two of them out the double doors a little _too_ quickly.  Jinyoung scowled and sent Mark a dirty look, but didn’t press the issue as they walked back to their car.

In case Mark hadn’t said it enough already, he _really_ hated confrontation.

 

. . .

 

Jackson shut off his car and pulled the keys out of the ignition, grabbing his jacket and Smoothie King hat before hopping out of the driver's seat.  His eyes drooped in exhaustion and he stretched his stiff muscles from a long day of work. In retrospect, he wished he hadn’t consumed so much alcohol the night before (not just because he stumbled up to his new neighbors’ apartment in a drunken haze, but also because his hangover was a right bitch today).  The welcome home party that his friends threw for him was fun, perhaps a little _too_ fun.  There was loud music, lots of people, and _tons_ of alcohol. Usually, Jackson knew his limit, knew when enough was enough, and when too much was too much, but after having not seen his friends for nearly the entirety of the summer, he really just wanted to let loose and have some fun, even if that meant getting completely and utterly fucked up.

He woke up this morning to a pillow being tossed at his face.

_“Get up,” Jaebum ordered.  “You have work in two hours. Go clean yourself up.” Jackson grunted and begrudgingly threw an arm over his face, squinting one eye to look at his roommate sitting grouchily on the bedside table._

_“If I have to work in two hours…” Jackson paused, coughing to clear the scratchy soreness out of his throat.  He blinked a few times, feeling the pressure of what would soon be an intense headache forming in his temples, and started again.  “If I have to work in two hours, why are you waking me up now?” he asked._

_“Because you need to clean yourself up.  You smell like you've been bathing in straight alcohol."  Jackson chuckled under his breath and Jaebum smacked his chest, a little too hard in Jackson's opinion. “It’s not funny, you were such a pain in the ass last night.  Do you even remember what happened?”_

_Jackson hummed sleepily and grinned.  “I remember having a hell of a good time.”_

_Jaebum scoffed and stood up to walk towards the bedroom door.  “Yeah, you did. But you also stumbled up to the new neighbors’ apartment and passed out drunk on their bathroom floor.”_

_Jackson sat up in confusion but immediately regretted his decision as he felt all the blood in his body rush to his head.  He leaned back slightly and massaged his forehead to relieve the building pressure.  “Wait.  Back up.  What happened?”_

_Jaebum sighed and inhaled a deep breath before starting again. “You passed out in our neighbors’ apartment when you were trying to come home after the party last night. One of them took care of your stupid ass until I got there to pick you up. You owe him…_ big time. _”_

_Jackson rubbed his eyes and fell back into his pillows. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said. “Seriously.  I didn’t know it was that bad.  Thank you for coming to get me.”_

_“I should have left you there,” Jaebum grumbled and opened the door to leave._

_“Aw, Jaebummie, you don’t mean that,” Jackson smiled, blinking his brown eyes cutely.  “You still love me, right?”_

_“Whatever,” Jaebum muttered and exited the room, closing the door behind him.  Jackson was just beginning to get out of bed when Jaebum reentered the room.  “By the way, his name is Mark.”_

_“What?” Jackson replied._

_“The guy who helped you last night. His name is Mark.”_

Jackson yawned as he locked his car, waiting for the _beep_ to sound before making his way inside the apartment building. He entered the lobby and headed in the direction of the elevators, noticing one of the doors beginning to close.

“Hold the elevator please!” he called, sprinting towards the door.  An arm protruded from the inside to trigger the door to reopen and Jackson slipped inside. He took a long, deep breath, thankful for not having to wait a million years for another elevator to pick him up. “Thank you,” he said as the doors began to close again.  His hand reached over to press the fifth floor button, but realized it was already lit up upon doing so.

Jackson turned and smiled to the person on his right, tilting his head a little in recognition.  “Hey! I’ve seen you before. You came into Smoothie King today. Pineapple surf, yeah?” The brunette next to him avoided eye contact, and Jackson wondered if maybe he was wrong and this was just a doppelganger of the guy who came in earlier.

To Jackson's surprise, the brunette nodded lightly, eyes wandering everywhere else but his. “Uh, yeah. That was me,” he said, a forced smile making its way onto his lips as he adjusted the Shake Shack carryout bag in his hands.

“Cool!” Jackson said in an attempt to break the ice.  “Which apartment do you live in?  It looks like we both live on the same floor.”

The elevator dinged and came to an abrupt stop, both gentlemen looking up to the digital screen displaying the number _5_ above the elevator doors.  Jackson gestured for the other to go first, and followed him out of the elevator. The two turned left down the long hallway and Jackson felt a bit like a stalker as he walked behind the man. Jackson watched as the other stopped at the apartment beside his own.

“Oh, you’re one of the new neighbors!” Jackson smiled, passing the other and leaning his shoulder into the door of his apartment. His neighbor fiddled with the keys in his hand and nodded. “What’s your name?” he continued, excited for the potential of new friends.  “I’m Jackson.  I live here with my two roommates.”

“I know,” the brunette said quietly, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “We had a brief encounter last night.”

Oh?

_Oh._

Jackson gulped. How had he forgotten about that? I mean sure, it was late, he had been at work for eight hours, and he felt like he'd been awake for several week straight, but _still._

"Oh," Jackson replied, eyes wide and immediately apologetic. "You must be Mark." He nodded and Jackson swallowed hard. "Um, about last night..."

“Don’t worry about it,” Mark assured him.  “It’s not a big deal. We can just pretend like it never happened."

“Did you receive my peace offering today?” Jackson snickered in regards to the six-pack of beer he'd left outside his neighbors' door. Mark nodded and relief washed over him.  “I really am sorry. I feel horrible. My roommate filled me in on everything this morning.  Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Mark shook his head, but Jackson still felt a twinge of guilt in his gut. "You guys need some more beer?  A gift card?  An apology cake?" Mark smiled slightly and looked at the keys in his hand, shaking his head as Jackson listed off the items. "You're sure?" he clarified and Mark nodded silently.  Jackson chuckled and crossed his arms, leaning more of his weight onto his apartment door.  “You're not much of a talker, are you?”

Mark's shoulders lifted lightly in a small shrugging gesture.  “Not really" he replied. Jackson noticed his neighbor switching his weight from one foot to the other, eyes still refusing to meet his. _Nervous ticks_ , he thought. _Maybe he's shy. Maybe he just isn't a people-person or maybe he's just reserved._  Mark sifted through his keys to find the one he was looking for and began unlocking his front door. But as he reached to open the door, a thought came to Jackson's mind.

_Or maybe I did something to make him feel nervous around me..._

"Um, so, weird question," Jackson began, halting Mark from entering his apartment. "Did I, like, do... something?” Mark squinted in confusion and Jackson searched for more words to explain what he meant. “I mean, like, did I say anything to you or do something last night that, like, made you, I don’t know, uncomfortable? When I'm drunk, I don't really think and, like, it's gotten me into trouble before.  I just don't know if I... did something, you know?”

Mark bit his cheek again and shook his head. “Not that I can think of." But Jackson felt like Mark wasn't telling him the truth. His stomach felt queasy at the thought of doing something stupid in front of him, something that would leave a bad impression of him to Mark.

“I feel like you're trying to spare me embarrassment," Jackson said, his eyes pleading for Mark to tell him what he'd done.

Mark shifted his weight again and pulled his jacket tighter around him, a light blush spreading on his soft cheeks. "Nothing, nothing. You just- you... it doesn't matter, it's not important. You were, like, really drunk and puking your brains out and talking crazy and whatnot and..." he trailed off momentarily, the color in his cheeks becoming more prominent as he fiddled with his keys, "you were saying I was cute or something and like... yeah. Like I said: not important."

Jackson bit his lip to stifle a grin.  _Sounds about right._

"God, sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward." He paused, and pulled his keys out of his pocket to unlock his front door. He pushed the door in slightly, stealing another glimpse at Mark before adding, "But if it means anything from sober me, I _still_ think you're cute." Jackson thought it _impossible_ for Mark’s face to grow any redder, so he decided to cut things short for the sake of his dignity.  He pushed his door open all the way this time and waved to Mark, sending a soft smile in his direction before entering his apartment, thinking to himself, _how did I get this lucky to have such an adorable next-door neighbor?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anybody who wants to follow my tumblr, my url is jimins-crooked-tooth! i'm actually the biggest fucking dweeb in the history of ever so please don't be afraid to follow me or message me or ask me things on there. i love meeting and getting to know new people! comment your thoughts on this chapter and give me a kudos if you liked it! i'll blow u a kiss <3
> 
> \- mia xoxo


	3. “'But' you don’t like girls... do you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dedicate this chapter to my best friend, madison (tumblr: jaemamba) who motivated me to write this chapter. i want to thank her for pushing me to write to the best of my abilities and for being my amazing, honest editor. love you <3

                                                                          

A few weeks had passed as Jinyoung and Mark grew accustomed to living in their new apartment. Compared to dorm life, apartment life was paradise for Mark; he and Jinyoung now had their own separate bedrooms, a joint bathroom that only the two of them had to share, a living space, and a full kitchen all to themselves. That meant no more awkward encounters with dorm floor residents, no more smelly bathrooms, no more dirty showers, and, above all, no more breeches of privacy.  He had _space_ now—space to live, space to think, space to breathe.  Additionally, their apartment complex was far enough off campus that they weren’t kept awake at night by rambunctious Greek-life party-goers anymore.

The school-year was fast approaching and Mark was excited to begin his last year of university. The overall college experience had treated him well over the years, despite his crippling social anxiety and his persistent unwillingness to “put himself out there.”  Sure, Mark’s introverted tendencies cost him a lot of what was deemed “the true college experience” but he was happy with his time spent here.  He had accompanied Jinyoung to a handful of parties, lived in the dorms, stayed up late studying for exams, even stressed over classes like any other college student, but he never quite lived up to the social aspects; he didn’t get involved in any clubs, groups, or organizations on campus like most other students. For Mark to even _think_ about committing to something that depended on frequent meetings made him irrationally anxious, simply from the off-chance that something may someday come up and prevent him from attending whatever it was he was a part of. Not to mention, the uneasiness he felt from the potential of not fitting in with others. He never was one to fit in.

And so, Mark never joined anything.  Instead, he lived vicariously through whatever Jinyoung did on campus and in turn, he supported his friend whenever possible.  Jinyoung was an active participant in their university’s debate team as well as a periodic member of the on-campus book club, which Jinyoung _swore_ was not nerdy, (but Mark knew the truth).  Jinyoung was reserved at times, but very often he was extroverted, willing to meet new people, indulge new experiences, and get involved in campus activities.  He was the only reason Mark ever got out of the house to do anything like go to parties, festivals, clubs, etcetera.  Without Jinyoung to drag him different places, Mark was a total home-body.

The only other time Mark _wasn’t_ hanging around the house was when he was at work.  Despite Mark’s displeasure for human interaction, he found comfort in being around and working with children, which is why he began working at his university’s on-campus daycare center midway through his college career.  He grew up with several younger cousins, nieces, and nephews, and always seemed to find a special place in his heart for them.  Kids were kind, curious, optimistic, imaginative, hopeful—traits people Mark’s age and older seemed to lack.  And while it was obvious that Mark loved kids, it was even more obvious that kids loved Mark.  For some inexplicable reason, children flocked to Mark like bees flocked to honey, whether it be at family gatherings or even at his own job.  But he didn’t mind it.  He felt at ease around children—cherished, safe, accepted.

“Kang Yi-Na!” Mark scolded from across the room, scooping up the crying child at his feet, and sauntering over to the young girl stationed at the play table.  She hung her head as Mark approached, fiddling with one of her puzzle pieces to purposefully avoid his gaze. “Yi-Na,” Mark said again, softer this time, and crouched down to her level, holding the sobbing boy against his chest.  The child wrapped his chubby little arms around Mark's neck and wailed into his shoulder. “Why aren’t you letting, Kyung-Woo play with you?" Mark inquired.  "He just wanted to help you make the puzzle.”  Yi-Na pursed her lips but still said nothing, bright eyes cast down to the puzzle pieces in her hand.  “Yi-Na,” Mark sing-songed, rubbing Kyung-Woo’s back to soothe his pitiful cries.  “I know you can hear me.”

Yi-Na looked up at Mark, cheeks puffed out in an undeniable pout and eyes desperate for understanding. “If Kyung-Woo plays with the puzzle, he’s going to mess it up!” she defended.  “He’s too young!"

Mark took a seat beside her while simultaneously holding a clearly distraught Kyung-Woo in his arms. “Well why don’t we try to show him how to play,” Mark suggested with gentle eyes.  “He might not understand how to play because he’s never been taught. Here.”  Mark grabbed a puzzle piece off the table and handed it to Kyung-Woo whose cries finally began to cease once Mark sat him in his lap and started showing him how to play the game. Mark spent the next ten minutes helping rekindle the friendship between the two playmates, eventually slipping away from the pair and leaving them to their own devices.

Days like this were not uncommon at the day-care center, children crying over being excluded from games, children crying over hurt feelings, children crying over not receiving enough attention… the list went on.  Still, Mark loved his job.  Being surrounded by these crazy, creative kids every week warmed his heart and gave him a gratifying sense of responsibility.

The day passed by relatively quick between all the regularly scheduled daycare activities and before he knew it, all of the children had been picked up. Mark stayed behind for a bit to clean up the children's messes, dusting, sweeping, vacuuming, the lot.  A half-hour later he waved goodbye to his boss, promising to see her during his next shift and made his way out the front doors.

Mark exhaled a deep sigh as he settled into his car, resting his head softly against the seat and closing his eyes in exhaustion.  He was tempted to call off his evening plans with Jinyoung and spend the rest of the night sitting alone in his room playing video games or catching up on some much-needed sleep, but he and Jinyoung hadn’t been out together in a while, and canceling now would not only upset Jinyoung, but also make Mark feel like a bad friend. So, after another couple moments of contemplation, he grudgingly shoved his keys into the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot.

 

. . .

 

The brief journey from Mark's car to the crowded bar had his anxiety spiking and he was again tempted to just call it quits and retreat back to the apartment. And yet he continued to make his way towards the front doors.  Upon entering, however, he realized things were even more stress-inducing than he'd imagined. The bar was absolutely _roaring_ with life—college students standing around in groups, yelling at their favorite sports teams through television screens, knocking back round after round of shots, and laughing drunkenly at each others' stories. Mark glanced briefly around the crowded room in hopes of finding his roommate already reserving a table for the two of them, but was ultimately disappointed after a quick once-over. He heaved a sigh and approached the bar, shimmying past rowdy students to settle himself on a stool towards the end of the counter, leaving an empty seat beside him for Jinyoung. The bartender made his way over to Mark and he ordered a drink for himself as well as one for his friend who would surely be turning up soon.

As he waited for Jinyoung to join him, he spun around in his wooden stool, sipping slowly on the edge of his glass as he absorbed the chaotic environment around him—intoxicated jocks goofing off around the pool table, carelessly spilling drinks all over the floor of the bar, hormone-driven couples making out obscenely in corner booths ( _Get a room_ , Mark thought), and tipsy college girls dancing to the pop music playing over the loudspeakers. Mark shuddered at the overwhelming atmosphere and turned around to face the counter again, the commotion behind him suddenly becoming a little too much with so little alcohol in his system.  He downed the rest of his drink and asked the bartender for another, his eyes falling to the still-full glass he’d ordered earlier for Jinyoung.

Mark pulled his phone out of his back pocket to check the time and found a half-hour old text message from his roommate sitting idly on his screen.

 

**From: Jinyoung**

_Hey, I’m getting off work later than usual… reschedule drinks for next Friday???_

Mark groaned and dropped his forehead onto the bar, a muffled thud causing the alcohol in his glass to tremble. _Why couldn’t I have checked my phone_ before _I came here?_ Mark groaned. He cursed himself for not checking his messages sooner and his roommate for… well, he didn’t know what he was cursing him for yet, but he was cursing him nonetheless.

“Everything alright?” a soft voice asked. Mark lifted his head from the counter to meet the eyes of a young girl staring back at him. She seemed to be around his age, shorter than him with big, light brown eyes, and long black hair pulled into a loose ponytail. She looked slightly amused, a gentle smirk playing on her thin pink lips.

Mark massaged his forehead tiredly and reached for the glass in front of him. He raised it to his lips and tipped his head back, feeling the slight burn of alcohol gradually making its way down his throat.  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he breathed, resting his chin in his palms and staring at the wall of liquor behind the bar.

“You look like you’ve been stood up,” she acknowledged, taking a seat beside Mark and placing her drink on the counter next to his.

He shrugged.  “Sort of, I guess.”

“Well, that makes too of us,” she said, downing a quick sip of beer and exhaling an obvious sigh. Mark shifted in his seat awkwardly, unsure of what to say in return.  Not only was small-talk not his strong-suit (or any kind of talk, for that matter), but he also wasn't exactly known for his comforting skills, as evidenced by his pithy  _oh_  in response.  It seemed to not phase her though; she pressed on, pausing only to ask the bar tender for another drink.

“That’s unfortunate,” she explained gloomily.  “I spent all this time getting cleaned up for nothing.” Mark nodded, sending a small, sympathetic smile in her direction to indicate that he was still listening, despite the fact that his heart had started beating faster in his chest as it began dawning on him that this girl was  _definitely_  hitting on him. “You look like you're in the same boat,” she maintained, gesturing to Mark. He glimpsed down at his outfit—a pair of black jeans with rips at the knees, a white tee-shirt, and a red and black plaid flannel.  Mark was not typically one to dress for style over comfort and today was no exception, so to him he looked no different than he normally did. But perhaps this girl was seeing something he was missing... _or_ maybe she was just trying to get into his pants.  Either way, he nodded curtly and smiled, running a shaky hand through his hair as she proceeded to make casual conversation with him.

The girl finished off her drink and exhaled a satisfied breath before looking to Mark again. “So, what’s her name?” Mark furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head a little in confusion, not quite understanding the question. She chuckled lightly and clarified, “The girl who stood you up."

Mark’s eyes widened in realization and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “O-oh,” he stammered, feeling his face heat at her words. She had misunderstood.  He wasn't stood up by a _girl_ , just a friend. “Uh, well…” He felt the weight of her eyes on him and he suddenly felt an uncomfortable churning in the pit of his stomach.  To avoid the question, he swiftly slid his phone out of his back pocket and pretended he was receiving an important phone call, politely excusing himself from the conversation to answer it.

Weaving through tight clusters of students, he managed to push his way into the bathroom, forcing the door shut behind him.  Mark stumbled over to the sinks to examine his reflection, hunching over the counter, his strong hands gripping the granite edges.  He took note of the pink sprinkled across his cheeks, closing his eyes and willing the blush to disappear for good.  He reached for the faucet and splashed a handful of cool water onto his face to ease his nerves.

 _Why didn't I just go home when I had the chance?_ Mark thought.  _I could have avoided all of this—the people, the environment, the girl at the bar, everything.  Why didn't you just tell her your friend stood you up?  She wouldn't have asked questions.  Why do you always have to get so worked up about everything?_ He shook his head. _Whatever. It doesn't matter. Just go back to the bar, tell her something important came up, pay your tab, and leave._

Mark lifted his head and stared at himself in the mirror again, water droplets sliding down his thin cheeks and chin.  He sighed and reached for the towels on top of the counter to dry off his wet face. As he dabbed the water off his cheeks, the bathroom door behind him opened and in entered a familiar blond.  They locked eyes in the mirror momentarily, the newcomer doing a double-take before stopping in his tracks and smiling cheerily.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jackson greeted, stalking over to the counter beside Mark and grabbing another towel for Mark. The brunette nodded in thanks and accepted the gesture, taking a minute to pat down his forehead and brush his messy bangs back into place with his fingertips.  Once he was finished cleaning up, he met Jackson's gaze in the mirror. His neighbor's head was tilted ever so slightly and his deep brown eyes were squinted in gentle concern. 

"Everything okay?" he asked.

Mark's eyes fell to himself in the mirror again, searching his face for any leftover traces of a blush, but to his delight there were none.  He brushed a thumb under the corner of his eye to wipe away a drop of water he had missed while drying his face and replied with a quiet, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You drunk this early in the night?” Jackson asked, a shadow of a grin appearing on his lips. Mark shook his head in response and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling himself on the brink of a headache as the craziness ensuing just outside the bathroom door billowed through the thin walls. Jackson’s gaze softened a bit at Mark’s odd behavior and he took a seat on the counter. “Are you sure you’re okay?  You look… out of it."c

Mark leaned back against the bathroom wall and looked up at the ceiling, eyes tracing the simple patterns above his head.  “It’s just been a rough day,” he answered softly.

"Care to elaborate?" the blond added, swinging his feet back and forth.

Mark shrugged.  “I don't really want to be here. My roommate canceled our plans last minute but I was already here by time I saw his text, work was long and exhausting, and now there’s this girl at the bar who’s hitting on me, but...” He trailed off and shook his head dismissively, his sentence never quite reaching fruition.

“'But' what?” Jackson pushed.

Mark shifted his weight from one foot to the other, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and returning his gaze to the patterns on the ceiling. “'But' nothing. Never mind. It’s not important.”

“' _But_ ' you don’t like girls... do you?” Jackson said, as though he had been reading Mark's mind all along. And in that moment Mark had never wanted to be swallowed up more in his entire life (and that's saying something). All the blood in his body instantly rushed to his cheeks and he cursed himself _yet again_ for allowing the things people say and do to have such an effect on him.

“Hey, there's nothing wrong with that,” Jackson assured him, his brown eyes full of compassion.

Mark tightened his fists to force the blush off his face. “How did you even know?” 

Jackson chuckled softly. “Well, for one, when cute girls hit on straight guys, straight guys don’t usually hide out in bathrooms." Mark's hands rose to cover his face, embarrassment rendering him speechless because _of course, straight men don’t complain about cute girls hitting on them at bars_.  And at this point, Mark was fairly certain he was destined to die of embarrassment right then, right there. But he was surprised when he felt a light tug on his wrists as they were pulled away from his face. He grudgingly opened his eyes and was met with the soft, understanding smile on Jackson's lips. “Not to mention,” he continued, “ _I’m_ gay and that makes finding my fellow gays  _extra_ easy.”

Mark struggled to fend off the small smile forming on his own lips, but Jackson’s grin was far too contagious. He felt his cheeks cool as he met Jackson’s gentle eyes again and he cleared his throat to break the growing silence. Mark shoved his hands into his pockets and started to walk in the direction of the door leading back out to the bar. “Anyway, I'm gonna... go," Mark murmured. "I have to do something about this girl and then I'm... I'm gonna go.” He swallowed hard, already dreading having to turn down the advances of the girl at the bar.

After a quick nod in Jackson's direction and a quiet, _see you around_ , he slipped out of the bathroom, and pushed through the crowd to return to his seat at the bar beside the dark-haired girl from before. She smiled as he returned and took the liberty of ordering the two another round of drinks. Mark sighed silently. He wanted to thank her for the drink, tell her that she was very kind and that she seemed like an all-around great person, but what he needed to tell her was that he didn't swing 'that way'. But how would he even start? How was he supposed to work up the guts to tell her that there would never be anything between the two of them because he didn’t like women in that way—he never had and he never would.

Mark’s throat closed up and anxiety coursed through his veins, paralyzing him, the thought alone of outing himself to this girl, this stranger, making it difficult for him to breathe, the fear of the unknown beginning to eat away at his core. But before Mark could mull it over any longer, he was startled as a pair of strong arms wrapped around his middle.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” a raspy voice said above the music, and Mark spun around in his seat to find Jackson’s grinning face only a short distance away from his. He winked at Mark and slid a warm hand around his waist, turning to face the girl beside Mark. “Hi there,” he greeted. “Thank you for keeping my boyfriend busy until I got here,” he said appreciatively, his fingers tightening subconsciously on Mark’s hip.

 _Boyfriend? Did he just call me his boyfriend?_ Mark’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing those words, his eyes widening in surprise and chest tightening almost on command. A lot had just happened in a short period of time. The warmth of Jackson’s body pressing into Mark's side and the arm enveloping his torso caused Mark's heart to beat rapidly and his stomach to flutter, the dizzying scent of Jackson’s cologne and aftershave making his head spin.

The girl looked between Mark and Jackson as if trying to understand the correlation between Mark, Jackson, and the blond's words.  Eventually, a sincere smile formed on her thin lips and she nodded. “It’s not a problem," she replied warmly. "Maybe I'll see you around soon.” She slid past the two, placing a reassuring hand on Mark's shoulder as she passed by and headed to the opposite side of the bar to chat up some other customers.

Mark exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and sighed in relief as Jackson settled into the seat beside him. The weight and warmth of Jackson's arm retracting itself from Mark’s body caused him to shudder slightly; he grabbed his untouched drink off the bar and began gulping it down in its entirety, the aftereffects of the alcohol leaving his throat burning.

“Woooah,” Jackson laughed, placing a hand on Mark’s shoulder and removing the glass from his hand. “Slow down.” Mark panted in an attempt to catch his breath and soothe the stinging in his throat.

“Why did you do that?” Mark asked sharply, still slightly on edge from the play-out of the situation.  “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I thought it might help. You looked like you were about to have a mental breakdown when you left the bathroom,” he explained softly.

Mark bit the inside of his cheek, unsure of what to say or how to feel. Should he thank Jackson for helping him?  Should he chew him out for not asking if it was okay for him to interfere in the way that he did? He couldn't place exactly what he felt in that moment and it made things difficult for him to reply.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” Jackson apologized, fiddling with the fingers in his lap. “I probably should have asked if it was okay.” The blond's brown eyes fled Mark’s regretfully and Mark found it somewhat odd. In his experience, Mark had only witnessed two sides of Jackson: drunk Jackson and over;y-confident Jackson. This was certainly new.

A moment passed before Mark shook his head. “It’s okay,” he decided, eyes cast down at his lap and fingers drumming lightly on his thighs.  "I probably wouldn't have been able to do it myself anyway." Before either of them could say anything else, Mark locked eyes with the bar tender and waved him over to order the two of them drinks. Jackson started to protest but Mark assured him that he wanted to, that he felt like he owed him.

"Thank you," Jackson smiled warmly and proceeded to take a sip out of his glass.

Mark nodded and took a drink from his too.  He swallowed hard and hissed a bit, this new drink slightly stronger than his previous ones. “Who did you come here with?” he asked Jackson, spinning in his seat to observe the crowded room.

“Well, I _was_ here with my roommates, but they both left,” he stated, nonchalant.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Are they coming back for you?  How are you getting home?”

Jackson raised his drink to his lips and looked at Mark over the rim of his glass.  “I was hoping I could catch a ride home with you,” he said.

Surprised by the sudden request, Mark’s drink caught in his throat and he coughed abruptly, covering his mouth with his hand as he sputtered. Once he’d regained his composure, he set his glass back on the counter and cleared his throat.  “Uh, y-yeah. That’s fine, I guess.”

“That’s a relief,” Jackson laughed and Mark hid a shy smile into his palms as he rested his face in his hands. Jackson’s bold personality sure made it hard for Mark to say 'no'.  He sat contently for a few minutes, staring into his glass and watching the bubbles rise from the bottom to the top. A clap on his left snapped him out of his daze and he turned to see Jackson facing him, his hands clutched together in front of his chest as he made a proposition.

“Well,” he started. “Since my friends ditched me and yours never showed up, how about we have our own fun tonight, just you and me?” He scooped up his glass and extended it in Mark’s direction, an eyebrow cocked in curiosity.

Mark eyed the glass in Jackson’s hand and hesitated.  He didn’t know this man.  The only time he’d ever spoken to him was once when Jackson was intoxicated past the point of coherence and once after both had returned home at the same time. This man was so loud, so impulsive, so unpredictable, and _so_ unlike anyone Mark would normally associate with.

But still, after a timid look into Jackson’s hopeful brown eyes, Mark met Jackson’s drink halfway with his, the _clink_ of glass and a shared smile between the two kicking off the start of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kiddos! thank you all for being so patient and supportive of my story! like i said, this is my first got7 fic AND my first markson fic. if you like my story, please comment, share with your friends, and send me some kudos!
> 
> love you guys <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
> 
> \- mia <3


	4. “Wouldn't you like to know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya kiddos. here's another chapter for you guys because i just love and appreciate all of the support this story has received over the past couple of weeks! shout-out again to my amazing editor and partner in crime (tumblr: jaemamba) for helping me come up with the ideas for this story and helping me perfect all of my chapters. i lobe you with all my heart <3<3<3

                                                                          

Mark woke the next morning curled up in the soft white sheets of his bed beneath a mound of fluffy blankets.  He scratched his head and looked at the clock on his night stand, eyes widening as he read the time: 14:53. Even for Mark this was late. Confused and somewhat alarmed, he sat up in his bed immediately wincing in discomfort as a painful throb emerged in his temple and behind his eyes.  Despite the demands of his body telling him to rest and take it easy, Mark proceeded to try to stand which only resulted in him collapsing back onto the bed, head spinning and legs buckling from the effort of getting up too quickly.

“Jinyoungie!” he called out, his voice coming out raspy from his irritated throat.  “Jinyoung-ah!” he called again, a little clearer this time, and a couple moments later his door opened, followed by his friend quietly entering the room.

“You’re finally up,” Jinyoung said, a shrewd smirk stretching onto his lips as he gave Mark a not-so-subtle once-over. “I thought you’d be asleep all damn day. Here.” He grabbed Mark’s hand and dropped three red pills into his palm, extending a glass of water for him to take. Mark silently thanked him and swallowed the pills with a sip from the glass, face contorting into a grimace as the cool liquid slid down his throat and sat heavily in his empty stomach. “Better?” he asked.

“Not really,” Mark muttered, rubbing his face with his dry hands.  “Why do I feel like a zombie?”

Jinyoung smiled and leaned his weight into Mark’s shoulder.  “You were out _really_ _late_ last night, Mister,” he faux-scolded, clicking his tongue, and shaking his head in mock-disappointment.  “Was worried you weren’t coming home.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed and he ruffled his messy hair with his fingers. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t get back until after midnight. Jackson brought you home.”

Mark looked to his friend, the confusion evident in his wide stare. “Wait, _what?_ ”

“Jackson brought you home last night,” he repeated, a little too cockily. “You guys were out at that bar until like one or two in the morning.  To say you were drunk is a _hell_ of an understatement.”

And _that’s_ when the flood of memories from the previous night began pouring in: Jinyoung canceling their plans, the girl hitting on Mark at the bar, Jackson showing up as Mark was on the verge of a mental breakdown, the endless drinks he consumed over the course of the night— _everything._ Or, at least everything he could remember.

Mark gulped, praying the sudden humiliation he was feeling was not evident in his face. “O-oh.  I don’t really remember that,” he half-lied, glimpsing down at his hands and tracing the lines on his palms gently with his thumb.  “I'm sorry.”

Jinyoung smiled, his eyes turning up into small crescents as he concealed a laugh into his hand. “Um, for the first time in your _life_ , you spent a night away from home with someone _other_ than me.  I don’t think I could be mad even if I tried.”

Mark shoved a snickering Jinyoung away from him and stood up to walk into the kitchen. With his back to his roommate he felt a sudden rush of blood to his cheeks. Why did he stay out so late with his new neighbor? What were they doing all that time? Piecing together the events of the night proved to be a difficult task, but not as difficult as trying to decipher how he felt in that moment. Drunk Mark was so horribly unpredictable it would be nearly impossible to guess what happened; some nights he was a perfectly coherent and rational drunk and other times he was an uncontrollable giggly drunk or inexorably somber drunk.  It really just depended on the day. Mark tried to shake the thoughts from his head, knowing that stressing over it would do him no good in the long-run.

He stalked over to the fridge and pulled the carton of milk off the top shelf along with a box of cereal from one of the kitchen cabinets.  Before he could take a bite of his breakfast (or, at this hour, technically his lunch) a knock sounded on the front door, Mark’s body freezing as if on command.  Jackson was the only person to appear at their apartment since moving in, and Mark couldn’t imagine it being _anybody_ else besides him, unless by mistake.

A feeling that he couldn’t quite place lingered in Mark’s gut as he answered the door. His pulse quickened under his skin as his suspicions were confirmed, opening the door to find Jackson standing opposite him, a friendly smile adorning his lips and dark eyes meeting Mark’s.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” he said quickly, “but, uh, I thought you might want these back.” The blond reached into his pockets and pulled out a pair of keys—Mark’s keys—and held them out for the brunette to take.  Mark eyed the keys in his neighbor’s hand and sent him a puzzled look.  “I drove your car home last night,” Jackson explained. “You were a little… intoxicated... to say the least.”  Jackson bit back a smile and Mark swallowed hard, his eyes falling to the floor as he rubbed his shoulder nervously.

“Uh, thank you,” Mark said, bowing his head slightly in the blond’s direction.  “For everything.” His eyes trailed from the stark white of Jackson's sneakers to his broad, jean-clad legs to the red graphic hoodie comfortably hugging his torso to the black ball cap fitted atop his head, his blond bangs sweeping messily over his forehead and accentuating his dark irises. Mark wished he could look as good as Jackson did in such casual attire. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he extended a hand and took the keys from his neighbor, biting the inside of his cheek nervously under Jackson’s watchful gaze. “My roommate told me that I came home a little drunk last night.  Sorry... I don’t really member much.”  He wrapped his arms tightly around his body and glimpsed warily at the fair-haired male. “How, uh… how bad was I?”

Jackson seemed to contemplate his question for a brief second before bursting into laughter, his lips turning up at the edges to reveal his admirably white smile. “I’d say we’re _definitely_ even now,” he said covering his mouth with his hand and Mark groaned internally.

_Fuck._

“What happened?” Mark asked bravely but Jackson shook his head and zipped his lips with his fingertips, walking back over to his apartment.  He cracked the door open and glanced back at Mark, a beaming grin adorning his face.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” he winked and stepped into his apartment without another word. Mark stood in the doorway of his apartment staring blankly at his neighbor's front door, the events of last night seemingly even more of a mystery now than before.

 

. . .

 

Jackson pushed the front door closed behind him, leaving Mark standing alone in the narrow fifth floor hallway.  His head had been swimming with thoughts of his neighbor all day long as he waited idly for Mark's roommate to text him to let him know Mark was awake.  Sure, he wanted to see the brunette in person and talk him up just about every chance he got, but this time he had an _actual_ reason for seeing Mark: he needed to return his keys.  Mark had been so wasted the night before it would have been impossible for him to drive the two of them home. Jackson ended up just taking his keys and driving the pair back to their apartment complex, half dragging, half carrying his neighbor onto the elevator and through the hallways to get him home. Upon seeing him in person just seconds ago made Jackson feel—dare he say it— _giddy_?  He wasn't entirely sure what the pounding in his chest meant or the churning in his stomach, but he did know for certain that Mark was the cause of it.

“What are you all smiley about?” Jaebum interjected, pulling Jackson from his thoughts as he stumbled by and walked into the kitchen with a handful of dirty dishes. Jackson hadn't realized he'd been grinning like a total idiot since reentering the apartment, but despite his attempts, he couldn't seem to wipe it away. Instead he followed Jaebum into the kitchen and plopped onto the counter beside him. He watched his roommate drop his dirty dishes into the sink, the small plunge causing the plates and cups to clatter against the metal basin. Jaebum turned to face Jackson, a hint of a smile still evident on the blond's lips as he raised a brow and asked cockily, “Boy next door got you wrapped around his finger already?"

Jackson scoffed but it came out as less of a threat with the presence of a grin on his face. “Maybe? What’s it to you?” he retorted.

Jaebum held up his hands in defense. “Hey, can’t a guy just take some interest in his best friend’s love life?  You guys were out pretty damn late last night, so _excuuuuse me_ for being a little curious.  It's not like I'm getting any action.” Jackson’s head fell back in laughter at his roommate's brutal honesty, but it was short-lived as his skull connected with the wooden cabinet behind his head, a loud _thud_ resounding around the kitchen. He leaned forward, clutching his head in his hands as a satisfied Jaebum muttered " _karma"_  under his breath.

“Shut up,” Jackson whined, somewhere between a whimper and a chuckle. “And, if you _must_ know,” he continued, “we just hung out at the bar all night.”  His friend sent him an unconvinced look and Jackson's eyes widened.  “I’m serious!” he exclaimed, smacking Jaebum’s shoulder.  “We were at the bar the whole time until I drove us back here.”

Jaebum rolled his eyes and turned on the faucet, pouring a glob of dish soap into the sink and causing a mass of fluffy white bubbles to accumulate over the dirty dishes.  “Why don’t you just ask him out on a date? You’ve been talking about him, like, non-stop all day.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jackson remarked. “Mark is, like, _super_ shy. He can't even have a simple conversation without looking like he's about to throw up."

“Yikes. That bad?”

Jackson nodded. “But apparently, all you have to do to get him to loosen up is just get him _really_ drunk.”

“Jackson!” Jaebum scolded, swatting his roommate’s arm with the back of his hand as Jackson hopped off the counter and erupted into mischievous laughter, scurrying down the hallway to his bedroom and swinging the door shut behind him.  He plopped onto his bed and crossed his arms behind his head, his eyes closing peacefully as his thoughts drifted absentmindedly to Mark again. The corner of his lip turned up into a smile as he recalled their night together.

 

_“Hey, why don't we go grab that open booth over there,” Jackson suggested. Mark shrugged casually and grabbed his drink, trailing close behind Jackson as they maneuvered their way past the people in the bar.  The two slid into seats across from each other and set their glasses down on the table, Jackson inhaling a quick sip before exhaling a satisfied sigh. He noticed Mark’s eyes roaming elsewhere and he smiled. “So, what are you doing here tonight?” he asked, dipping his head down in an attempt to meet Mark's gaze._

_The brunette leaned forward until his chest rested against the table and absentmindedly traced shapes into the condensation of his glass. “I told you already. My roommate bailed on me last-minute and I was already here by time I got his message.”_

_Jackson nodded. “Yeah, I know that part. I mean why stick around here if you have no one to drink with?” His head tilted in interest as he waited for the other to reply._

_Mark’s shoulders rose and fell and he rested a cheek on his palm. “I like being alone, I guess.”_

_Jackson wasn’t sure if the quiet, gloomy undertone in Mark’s voice was present for any particular reason or if it was just the way Mark always sounded; either way, Jackson frowned.  He didn’t like the idea of someone drinking at a bar all alone.  A bar was a place for people to have fun, tell stories, watch sports, and drink away their problems in the company of their close friends.  Mark may have said he wanted to be here alone, but Jackson had doubts._

_“Well, even if you don’t mind being here alone,_ I _do, so now you_ have _to keep me company," he teased. Mark concealed a smile into the rim of his glass, tilting his head back until what little he had left of his drink was completely gone.  “Perfect timing,” Jackson clapped. “I’ll get us another round.”_

Grinning like a fool, Jackson rolled over on his side and clutched a pillow to his chest.  He thought about how cute Mark was, his introverted tendencies only adding an extra layer of adorableness to his already sweet disposition. He wished he had kept track of all of Mark’s blushes and lip bites, the most prominent tell-tale signs of Mark’s naturally coy and quiet nature. Jackson, of course, was the opposite—loud, outgoing, and instinctively social—but Jackson also had a knack for befriending anyone and everyone, even people like Mark.

He thought about Mark’s charming white smile, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled and his perfect teeth peeked out from behind his rosy pink lips, his tender brown eyes full of shyness and uncertainty, his long, thin fingers drawing abstract shapes onto the table, and his warm, contagious laughter brightening up the space around them anytime he found something particularly funny.  Mark was so intriguing and alluring yet so naive and guarded, but Jackson just couldn’t get enough of it.

 

_“Jackson,” Mark slurred, smiling clumsily as he leaned in closer to the man across from him.  Jackson found it hard to contain his amusement as Mark’s state of mind continued to deteriorate over the course of the night with each drink he consumed.  He, himself, would be just as inebriated had he not taken it upon himself to stop drinking earlier in the night, seeing as neither of them would be making it home in one piece if both were this wasted._

_“Hm,” Jackson hummed, grinning at Mark’s newfound self-confidence since knocking back so many rounds.  In Jackson’s defense, he_ had _tried to limit Mark’s alcohol consumption, but with every attempt, Mark brushed him off and continued ordering more and more drinks._

_“Remember that one time you came home drunk and thought my apartment was yours?” Jackson nodded and Mark giggled into h_ _is hand.  “I think... I think I’m as drunk now as you were that night,” he blurted, beginning to laugh uncontrollably into the crook of his arm._

_“I think you might be right,” Jackson chuckled. “Just please don’t vomit all over the floor like I did.”_

_Mark's face suddenly turned very serious and he reached out to rest his hand over Jackson’s, a shit-eating grin making its way onto his face.  “Oh, I won’t,” he assured.  “Unlike_ somebody _I know, I can actually hold my alcohol.”_

 _Jackson’s scoffed and yanked his hand away from Mark’s, crossing his arms playfully over his chest and_   _making Mark giggle furiously in his seat.  “Look at you all high and mighty! You get a couple drinks in your system and suddenly you think you’re hot shit!”_

 _“I_ am _hot shit,” Mark replied confidently.  “You even said so yourself.”_

 _“Actually, I said you were_ cute _,” Jackson corrected, emphasizing the word ‘cute.’_

_“Oh, that’s right,” Mark giggled, leaning his weight into the table and covering his mouth with his hand.  He lifted a finger and coaxed Jackson closer until the two were practically face to face.  Jackson held his breath nervously as he waited for Mark to speak. “Tell me..." he started. "What else do you think about me?”_

_Jackson exhaled a short laugh, leaning back slightly and resting his elbows on the table, his chin in his hands. “Well, for one,_ _I think you’re way too drunk right now to remember any of this tomorrow,” Jackson quipped.  Mark snickered, flashing the blond his ivory smile before downing the rest of his liquor. Jackson flinched at how effortlessly his neighbor emptied the glass, almost as if the burn of alcohol in his throat had no effect on him._

_Mark set his glass down and sighed happily, eyes fluttering.  “Okay, so maybe you’re right,” he admitted, ushering in a casual shrug. “But who caaaaares? Tonight’s about having fuuuuun, right? Let’s just let loose,” he said, shaking his body from head to toe as though he were releasing of all of his pent-up stress and worries.  Seeing that Jackson still seemed reluctant, Mark ran a hand down his face and groaned. “Fine, I’ll start.” He cleared his throat and tapped his chest as though he were preparing to give a notable speech to a crowd of onlookers.  He inhaled a deep breath, exhaling softly as he said with conviction, “You have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen.”_

_Mark’s sudden boldness surprised Jackson and he was a little taken back.  This was the same person who, not even three hours ago, took shelter in a bathroom to escape the embarrassment of being hit on by a girl at the bar, the same person who struggles to look somebody in the eyes for more than a full second, the same boy whose cheeks were stuck in a perpetual blush. It was so unexpected seeing Mark this open and carefree when he was normally so nervous and flustered. It wasn’t to say that Jackson didn’t like this Mark, the Mark that didn’t hold his tongue, the Mark that said exactly what was on his mind—it was just… different._

_“Wow,” Jackson replied, his pulse quickening and his stomach doing somersaults as he replayed Mark’s words in his head. “Thanks, I guess. I never thought brown eyes were anything to swoon over...” He looked away sheepishly and took a sip of water from his glass._

_“Me either,” Mark admitted.  “But yours... yours are just… wow.  They’re just wow.” He bent forward slightly over the table top, peering deeply into Jackson’s eyes like he was in a trans. After a couple seconds of staring warily back at the brunette, Jackson blinked hastily, abruptly coming back to his senses and attempting to shake away the sudden wave of nerves forming in the pit of his stomach.  Mark must have noticed the blond's demeanor change because he smiled presumptuously and leaned back against the booth._

_Jackson cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest again. “What are you so cocky about?” he interrogated._

_“You’re blushing,” Mark replied merrily, Jackson’s hands shooting up in embarrassment to cover his warm cheeks. “I’ve never seen you blush before.”_

_In very few cases did Jackson_ not _have the upper hand in a conversation—he always knew what to say, how to shift the direction and mood of the conversation, how to start it and how to end it, so could somebody please explain to Jackson why he was having such a difficult time keeping his thoughts and feelings in order?_

 _Mark reminded him that it was his turn to spill his thoughts, and despite the heat that was surely still prevalent in his cheeks, Jackson swallowed the lump forming in his throat and told himself that Mark was_ really _drunk so anything he said would most likely go in one ear and out the other by time Mark woke up the next morning.  He felt a little more confident then about admitting his feelings._

_“Okay,” he started. “I don't think I have ever been more attracted to someone I have just met than I am with you.” Mark squinted, his head tilting in interest as he waited for Jackson to continue. “I don’t know how to describe it. Like, I’m so drawn to you but I don’t know why. You’re so shy and quiet and guarded and I find it so endearing for whatever reason.  I know it all sounds stupid but it’s late, you’re drunk, and I know you won’t remember any of this tomorrow.”_

_At his confession, Mark stared silently at Jackson for an uncomfortably long time, an indecipherable look on his face that made Jackson wonder if he had gone to far and what Mark was thinking in that moment. It almost seemed as though he wanted to say something.  What?—Jackson wasn't entirely sure because his train of thought was interrupted when their waitress reappeared at their table with another round of drinks in her hands._

Jackson groaned at the memory, burying his face in his pillow. _Why had he said all that? It'was so humiliating._ With the amount of alcohol Mark consumed last night Jackson felt certain he wouldn't remember a thing.  But still, something about their odd exchange left an unfamiliar feeling in Jackson's chest.  Was it warmth? Fear? Embarrassment? He couldn’t tell, but it was definitely out of character for Jackson to be like this. Jackson was always so confident, so adventurous, even playful in discourse, but Mark had managed to pull this… this unusually tender and emotional side out of him.  It was all so surreal, alarming even.  He didn't understand what was happening and he especially didn't know how to feel about it.

 

_“Mark,” Jackson murmured, shaking the shoulder of the man sitting in the booth across from him.  He heard a quiet ‘hm’ escape Mark’s lips and he breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t completely knocked out. “Mark, I think it’s time for us to go home.”_

_Mark lifted his head slowly from the table and pushed his messy bangs out of his face with a wobbly hand, glimpsing down at his empty glass and frowning.  “Not yet,” he said, tapping the glass with his finger.  “More.”_

_“No,” Jackson said, shaking his head gingerly. “No more. You’ve had enough.”_

_Mark pouted, his distant gaze finding Jackson's and staring pleadingly into them. “But we’re letting loose, remember?”_

_Jackson nodded softly. “I remember, but we already let loose. It’s getting late and we need to get home._

_“But I like talking to you,” Mark frowned, resting his chin gently on the table and staring longingly into his empty glass._

_Jackson smiled, resting his cheek in his palm and swirling his straw around in his water. “I like talking to you too. We can continue this some other time, okay?”_

_Mark sighed but ultimately complied, mumbling a quiet 'okay'  before sitting up and throwing an arm over his stomach. Jackson grabbed his thin jacket and threw it on over his clothes, zipping it up half-way.  He was preparing to stand when he noticed Mark’s face contorted into what looked like a mix between pain and a grimace._

_“What? What’s wrong?” Jackson asked, swinging his legs into the aisle in the off-chance he would have to tow a hurling Mark into the bathroom._

_“Tummy hurts,” he whined, rubbing his abdomen and slumping down in his seat like a child._

_Jackson checked his phone for the time and asked,_ _“Did you eat dinner?”  Mark shook his head ‘no’ and Jackson exhaled a slight groan. “Mark, why didn’t you tell me you didn’t eat dinner? You practically just drank your body weight in alcohol all on an empty stomach!”_

_Mark shrugged effortlessly and tugged on his sleeves, shying away from Jackson’s stern voice. “Jinyoungie wasn't here to make me eat,” he slurred, lips jutted into a pout._

_“Goddamn it," Jackson grumbled under his breath. He stood up to remove his jacket again, seeing as it would be another couple minutes before they officially left now. “I’ll order you something to go and you can eat it on the way home.”_

_"No, no, no!” Mark suddenly said, catching Jackson slightly off guard. “No food.  No food.”_

_“What? Why not? You have to eat_ something _or else your stomach is going to be a shit-show tomorrow.” He began searching the bar's gradually thinning crowd to find their waitress._

_“No. No food. No food,” he said, desperately shaking his head. “Gotta look good.”_

_Jackson looked at Mark, half in annoyance and half in confusion. “What are you talking about? You need to_ eat _,” he emphasized.  He raised his hand to catch the server's attention, but was taken by surprise when Mark inhaled a shaky breath, his bottom lip quivering and eyes glossing over as he erupted into tears. Jackson’s eyes widened as the brunette held his face in his hands and slumped over in his seat, tears pouring like waterfalls down his cheeks._

_“No, Jackson. No food,” he cried. “Please no food.”_

_Not knowing what else to do in that moment, Jackson gently slid into the booth beside Mark and patted his back in an attempt to console him. Jackson swallowed hard and glimpsed worriedly down at the weeping brunette, not knowing what the_ fuck _was going on or how to handle Mark's sudden onslaught of tears._

_“Okay, okay," he comforted, rubbing a soothing hand gently up and down Mark's back. "No food. I won’t order you food,” he promised._

_The pair sat there for a long time, Mark sitting with his face in his hands and Jackson shushing and embracing a hysterical Mark. He was beginning to grow more and more concerned, not understanding what was happening and not knowing how to handle it. Mark coughed wetly into the sleeves of his red flannel, wiping his wet eyes tiredly with the palms of his hands._

_Eventually, the boy's violent sobs started to cease as Mark began composing himself, traces of his meltdown evident in his puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Jackson was apprehensive to ask him what was wrong because he feared it would only set him off again, but at this point he had an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach._ What was going on?

_"Mark, what's wrong?  Why are you crying?” Jackson inquired softly._

_Mark sniffed and looked up at Jackson, his tired eyes meeting Jackson's in a pitiful gaze._ _“Can’t gain w-weight,” he stammered, lip trembling lightly. “I gotta look good.”_

 _"What are you talking about? What makes you think you don’t look good?" Jackson urged, stroking his back tenderly. The brunette shook his head wearily and shielded his face with his hands again, leaning heavily into Jackson’s shoulder as round two of tears officially kicked in. Jackson sighed and massaged his forehead with one hand, continuing to comfort Mark with his other._ It’s time to go home, _Jackson thought.  He began hauling his distraught neighbor out of the booth, using one arm to support Mark’s weight as he guided the two of them outside to Mark’s car._

. . .

 

Jackson laid in bed that night, his mind unable to rest as he thought about Mark and everything that had occurred the night before. _Is he just self-conscious about his body and that’s why he didn’t want to eat?  Is he on some kind of strict diet where he has to watch what he consumed?_ Jackson wasn’t clear what the problem was but a part of him sensed it was a lot more serious than just some drunken meltdown.  The concept of eating seemed to alarm Mark more than anything else, his eyes harboring fear and dread as he silently plead for Jackson to not order him food.  The last thing Mark requested of him before completely passing out was for Jackson to not tell Jinyoung.  He was a little unsure about what he meant by that, so he opted to keep his confrontation with Mark's roommate as brief as possible aside from exchanging cellphone numbers with each other.

The more Jackson thought about how Mark acted that night, the more uneasy Jackson felt. He hoped more than anything that there was a simple explanation for what he had witnessed at the bar and that it was all just one big misunderstanding...

But he had doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter isn't quite what i had in mind, but it #iswhatis lol. it's a lot of dialogue and i apologize for that; i'll claim laziness on my part. anyway, i initially wanted to upload a chapter once every week to keep the ball rolling, but as i'm sure a lot of you can probably imagine, writing 3k-4k words every week is VERY hard and VERY time-consuming, especially when i'm still trying to come up with ideas for the story. i don't want my chapters to seem rushed, so i think i may try to upload every 2-3 weeks instead.
> 
> thanks again for everything, you guys!
> 
> \- mia <3


	5. NOT AN UPDATE

hey guys! so i've been in france all this week and haven't been able to write or update more of this story. on top of that, school just started back up for me and i'm trying to catch up with everything before i begin writing again.  i hope you all understand and continue supporting my story!

 

-mia<3

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is jimins-crooked-tooth if any of you want to follow me and be friend <3 my blog and i are both trash but i figured i'd just put this out there lmao


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